


Les Chevaliers

by cjmarlowe



Category: Trinity (TV 2009)
Genre: Canonical Gay Relationship, First Time, M/M, Pre-Canon, Yuletide 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmarlowe/pseuds/cjmarlowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was all because of Dorian, as things so often were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Les Chevaliers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [favolefata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/favolefata/gifts).



It was all because of Dorian, as things so often were. Both things that made Jonty regret they'd been introduced as adolescents, and things that made him grateful he was in the inner circle, so to speak. He wasn't entire sure which this one was yet, only sure that like so many things, it had begun as something all about Dorian.

"Take an interest in sport," Dorian said. "You're too pale."

"I'm reading."

"You don't need to read," said Dorian, plucking the book from his hands. "A person might start to think you intend to work for a living."

"God forbid," said Jonty dryly. "Believe it or not, some of us do this recreationally."

Dorian tossed the book on Jonty's bed and headed for the door. "Come with me," he said, in a tone that brooked no argument. Jonty might think that Dorian was a tremendous twat, but that didn't mean he wasn't his closest friend. He told himself he was _choosing_ to follow.

"Let me get a hat," he said, and ignored Dorian's impatient huff of breath as he did just that.

Jonty liked the river, actually, despite what Dorian might think. It reminded him of his estate, of those hidden places outdoors he went for a quiet moment. Which meant, of course, that he tended to visit it solo and not when the rowers were practicing. He liked a good regatta as much as the next chap, but everything leading up to it was just a necessary tedium.

Though there were a few side benefits. Jonty's primary interest sport, when he took one, was shirtless, muscular young men doing what they did best.

"Sebastian's father is friends with mine," said Dorian, in that bored, detached way of his when talking about anything to do with his family. Even with Jonty. "I promised him I would take him under my wing."

"So you haven't said two words to him and think merely watching him row is fulfilment of that promise."

"Naturally," said Dorian. "This is me taking an interest in him. What more does he need?"

"Indeed," said Jonty, and took a closer look. "Which one is he?"

"Nearest to us," said Dorian, giving the slightest of nods. "The blond."

The tall one, thought Jonty. The striking one. Perhaps this little excursion wasn't such a terrible idea after all. His book would be waiting on his bed when he returned to his room, after all. With any luck, he'd have the opportunity to toss it on the floor and replace it with Sebastian.

"You want him, of course," said Dorian. "You absolute poofter."

"I don't want everybody," said Jonty. He did this time, though. Sebastian was fit, and to Jonty's practiced eye was clearly bent, and here at the start of term Jonty was all for picking the low-hanging fruit. So to speak.

"I can make that happen."

"I don't need you to make that happen," said Jonty. "In fact, I'll thank you to _not_ get in my way."

"My father—"

"Didn't have this in mind when he told you to take him under your wing," said Jonty. "Wouldn't you rather have plausible deniability?"

"A fair point," said Dorian, then looked at his watch and decided that he'd given Sebastian enough of his time. "I'll see you at lunch tomorrow?"

"I can't imagine where else I would be," said Jonty, and tipped his head at him and started down the bank while Dorian headed back up towards the college. The rowers were resting their oars now, and Jonty hoped he wouldn't be waiting out here with the other scattered spectators long.

His attention was so fixed on Sebastian he didn't even notice the quiet one on the far side until later in the season, and once he did he always regretted those lost weeks.

 

Jonty had never intended to entertain Sebastian for more than a night or two, a week at most, but even if he had Sebastian was far too much of a closet case for Jonty to want to deal with. It was one thing to be private, discreet. It was another to deny who you were so vocally and vehemently at every opportunity.

But it was still enough to get him in the habit of watching the rowing from time to time, if at least partly to dodge Dorian's comments about his academic habits. And not even the comments so much as those _looks_ of sheer, dramatic disdain. 

Sebastian wasn't the only one with deliciously muscled arms; it was something of a job requirement. Perhaps practices could be considered something of a spectator sport after all. At least, if he brought a book and some music with him to carry him through all the boring bits. 

"I'm going to guess that you don't row."

The voice came from behind his shoulder, from a young man who clearly _did_.

"What gave it away?" said Jonty. "The book? The slender limbs? The brim on my hat?"

"The shoes," he said, and grinned at him and Jonty was suddenly captivated by that grin in a way he was completely unprepared for. "How much trouble do you think I'm in that I missed practice today?"

"I think you'll be expelled immediately," said Jonty. "You might as well go back to your room and start packing."

"I think I'll take my chances with Dr Cooper," he said, his grin not even fading. "He seems to think I have potential. I can fake an illness."

"Fake a family emergency, if you must," Jonty recommended. "It's much more difficult to prove it's a lie."

"I'd have to have a family to have an emergency," he said, just loud enough to be audible, but Jonty wasn't convinced he was meant to hear. The crisp air carried more than one meant it to.

He twisted his body around just enough to offer his hand. "Jonty Millington," he said.

"Ross," he got in return, and a firmer handshake than he'd been expecting. "Bonham. I suppose it's time to go face the music now."

"Technically you're just late at this point, not absent," said Jonty. "If that helps."

"I guess we're going to find out," he said, and gave him a wave as he headed off. Jonty watched him for a long time after he left.

 

The members of the Dandelion Club all knew one another, of course. What's more, they also knew who was _meant_ to become a member. Even if they hadn't known one another for years from their days at the nanny's knee, they were still easily able to pick one another out of a crowd. Most of them. 

Jonty wouldn't have picked Ross out of the crowd as someone with the right pedigree. He didn't even know until he mentioned him to Dorian one day and Dorian was happy—for a certain value of happy—to detail Ross's family's estate and line. For all that he protested not to care about anything but sating his own desires, there was a lot of useful information locked up inside that head.

"We'd never met before Trinity," was all Jonty said to that. He wasn't necessarily proud of it, but it made him look at Ross in a new way. 

"Then why are you _asking_ about him," said Dorian. "I've created a monster. Go back to your horrible books and your horrible music. I should never have made you go outdoors."

"I'm not a vampire," said Jonty. "I do occasionally walk in the sunshine for reasons other than..."

"Other than what? Wetting your wick?"

"Never mind," said Jonty. "I don't know why I tell you anything."

"Neither do I," said Dorian, "because you must know that I don't care."

"Is Sebastian's father being horrible about it all? Is that why you're being so shirty? Is your father—"

"Sebastian is a twat," Dorian interrupted him, "and if _I_ know that he would never breathe a word of your little adventure to his father, surely you do too."

"Then what is it?" said Jonty. "Because if there's one thing you do care about it's whether or not people are living up to your hedonistic standards." And me, he almost added, but he would never actually say it. _If there's one friend you care about, it's me._

Dorian just looked at him and didn't answer and of course it was about his father. Of course it was. Not about Sebastian and his many issues but something else entirely. He didn't ask after that, and he certainly didn't expect Dorian to open up.

"At least you're having sex," he went on finally.

"You're not?"

"My options are not quite as open as yours," he said, rather than admitting that he hadn't been exploring them since Sebastian (and, equally briefly, Roger, who certainly hadn't lived up to his name). "You have your girls _delivered_."

"It's not my fault they come flocking to my door," said Dorian. "It's my natural charm and charisma."

"I'm not sure those are the right two adjectives," said Jonty, "but whatever you need to tell yourself."

"I don't need to tell myself anything," said Dorian, which was the absolute truth as Jonty knew it. "So. Ross Bonham."

"I was curious," said Jonty, shutting him down as best he could, which was more difficult since he'd been the one to open the door. "A scientific curiosity."

"Nothing scientific about it," said Dorian.

 

Ross Bonham was very good. The more experienced team members were still pulling ahead, but he was holding his own and if Jonty was any judge (he wasn't, he'd just watched enough practices now that he fancied himself something of an expert, or at least marginally competent), Ross had more to give yet.

And Jonty did actually watch now, without so much as a book in his hands, knees tucked up against his chest and eyes on the water. If he hadn't been, he might not have even noticed that, as Ross left the water, he headed straight for the empty space next to him.

"What's the matter?"

"What makes you think something's the matter?" said Ross.

"You can do better than that," said Jonty, nodding at the water.

Ross looked at him incredulously for a moment, and Jonty supposed he might have been taking liberties considering how few times they'd actually spoken, but then instead of getting defensive, Ross grinned. 

"Had a bit of a late one last night," he said. "I could've used a few more hours of sleep and a few less pints."

"Naughty boy," said Jonty, tutting at him. "From what I understand of the rowing program, they like to keep you all in peak form."

"Doesn't mean we don't get to enjoy ourselves," said Ross. From the foolish look on his face, Jonty would wager he hadn't been enjoying himself alone. "Come on. I'm famished, and you don't seem to have brought a proper picnic with you."

"I didn't have anyone to make one up for me," he admitted, standing up soon after Ross did and shaking out his blanket before tucking it under one arm.

"But you're a Dandelion," said Ross.

"Not a particularly high-ranking one," he said. Not yet, anyway.

They ended up in the common room, sharing some kind of wretched vegetable dish that he supposed had to be penance for whatever debauchery Ross had got up to the night before. He seemed content to devour it, at any rate, and Jonty didn't even need to pretend, he just needed to sit there with a fork in his hand.

They didn't talk about much of substance, which was par for the course as far as Jonty was concerned, but after that they turned post-practice meals into something of a habit. 

One evening over dessert he told Ross about his family, which was a somewhat verboten topic with anyone else, though they weren't such good friends that he went so far as to talk about his own fears about his place in it. In return Ross told him that he came to Trinity _because_ no one else in his family ever had, and after his parents died his trust ensured that he could go to any school he wanted. The trust that his brother couldn't touch, no matter how many angles he had his lawyers come at it from.

It certainly made sense then, that his family hadn't known Ross's particularly, and it was refreshing that he wasn't the umpteenth generation to walk Trinity's hallowed halls, unlike Dorian and Jonty and most of his circle of acquaintances. Everything about him was new and different.

"We're lucky to have you," he said. 

"Really?" said Ross. "And here I thought I was the lucky one."

 

There were a few places at Trinity that Jonty never went, and Ross often did. Not that he followed him, because that would have been beneath his dignity, but if he happened to spot Ross going about his business, it would have been foolish not to at least pay attention. They were friends, of the sort that actually enjoyed one another's company, which was more than he could say for most of the rest of his.

When Ross went to the chapel, Jonty discreetly left him to it, both out of respect and disinterest. When he went to the weights gym rather than using the equipment in his room, Jonty would occasionally pause to watch. The fact that he was a poof wasn't exactly a secret, if not often uttered aloud by any other than Dorian, so he certainly wouldn't be giving anything away by peering inside for a few moments.

When Ross spotted him and beckoned him in, though, he was torn between walking away as though he'd just been passing by—which was so distant from his usual haunting grounds as to be laughable—and joining him.

"It's easy," Ross called out to him a moment later, certainly audible to everyone else who wasn't clanging around in the back, "just one foot in front of the other."

And thus he was shamed into attempting to prove he wasn't completely useless amongst the equipment.

"You're not really dressed for it," Ross teased him, straddling a bench and looking up at where Jonty was standing awkwardly next to him. There was certainly no advantage to his height in this situation; Ross could have been lying on the floor and still had the upper hand.

"I'm really more of a spectator," he said, which got him an even wider grin.

"I could teach you, if you wanted."

"Maybe another time," he said faintly, and Ross shrugged and leaned back and Jonty was suddenly spectating from much closer than he'd been expecting. It was one thing to be fairly open about his interests; he simply didn't _care_ what they thought of him. But it was quite another to be this potentially blatant.

"You might like it," said Ross. "It clears the mind. I think you've got a lot going on in yours."

It might have been the most genuinely observant, most genuinely _nice_ thing anyone had said to him in ages.

 

In retrospect, having Dorian alongside him when he went to watch Ross after that was just asking for trouble. Having Dorian along at any time was asking for trouble, but usually it was the sort of trouble that Jonty was keen to get into. This was something else entirely.

What he _intended_ to do was congratulate Ross on...well, it wasn't a race, but he'd think of something. Congratulate him on his good form or some such. Instead, before he could so much as open his mouth, Dorian had opened his.

"So you do know he wants to sodomize you, don't you?" said Dorian to Ross, putting a hand on Jonty's near shoulder. Jonty glared at him and had the momentary fantasy of Dorian turning to ash under the intensity of his gaze. There were _no words_ for what he was thinking. 

Ross paused for a moment, looking from one to the other. "That's unfortunate," he said finally, and Jonty's expression got harder. "I was really hoping I might get the chance to do _him_."

Then he smirked at them both and headed down the bank to where that little troll Dr Cooper was waiting before anyone could say another word. Jonty shook Dorian's hand off, but he didn't follow.

"There," said Dorian. "Now that that's finally sorted, you can help me with something. I can't believe you wasted that much time."

"Sorted?" said Jonty. "In what way is that _sorted_? You're an absolute bastard, do you know that?"

"I'm thoroughly legitimate in every way," said Dorian. "There's documentation."

"You're an absolute shit, then."

"Oh yes," said Dorian. "I am that."

 

Ross was the one who came to find him, eventually, knocking on Jonty's door and waiting only for him to appear at it before inviting himself in. Jonty might not have answered the door stark naked, like Dorian was prone to do, but he was in a torn t-shirt and striped boxers because the only people he'd expect to knock on his door at this time of night wouldn't have cared. It wasn't the impression he wanted to make.

"I was—" he said, and in a momentary fit of ineloquence he gestured at his desk, covered in notes and a heavily marked up biochemistry textbook.

Ross just nodded. "That's a bit of a relief," he said after a moment, while they stood there with pent up movement, Jonty unsure of what was happening, Ross unsure of whether to come further inside. "That you study. Your friend Dorian—"

"Is a law unto himself," said Jonty. There was pleasure to be had, after all, in accomplishment and being absolutely correct, even if his graduation had been assured from the moment he joined the Dandelion Club. It coexisted with the pleasure of being someone who mattered and who didn't have to care. "Do you want a drink? Dorian stole the last of my merlot but I'm sure I have something appropriate for a nightca—"

Ross, who had been quite still as he looked around the room, suddenly surged forward and placed a hand on either side of Jonty's face and then they were kissing. It took but a moment of fluttering of Ross's eyelashes for Jonty to clutch at the loose fabric at Ross's waist and close his eyes and kiss him back for as long as Ross would let him.

He didn't open them even when Ross tipped away to breathe, their foreheads still touching and Ross's hands still on his face. Like if he opened them, the moment might end right then and there, and with this much build up he didn't want it to be over so soon.

"I thought you might have been joking," he said, after a few moments of breathing together. "To lighten the moment."

"I thought you might have thought that," said Ross. "I decided to make things perfectly clear."

"You certainly did that," said Jonty, and cleared his throat and tried to think of something clever to say. "That drink...?"

"How about breakfast instead?" said Ross, and kissed him again.

Jonty wasn't used to not being the one in complete control of the situation. It turned out it was rather nice, if unfamiliar, to go to bed with someone who felt more like a partner than a conquest.

They had champagne for breakfast, in bed, then spilled half the bottle on the floor when Ross decided they had time for one more go before he had to leave. Jonty would have someone in to clean it up later; he barely paid it any mind at all.

And in the end Ross was still nearly late as he struggled into his clothes, with Jonty in nothing more than his dressing gown, and paused at the door.

"It's too bad I already got your peak performance out of you today," said Jonty as he leaned in to kiss him.

"Dr Cooper will just have to be disappointed," said Ross, looking all too pleased by that. "Are you coming to watch us compete on Saturday?"

"I'm coming to watch _you_ compete on Saturday," he said, brazen honesty, then one more kiss and Ross was gone.

 

He didn't _invite_ Dorian this time, but then Dorian had never needed to be invited anywhere. Dorian showed up where and when he liked, and you let him largely because he gave you no other option.

"You're getting a tan," he said, sitting down next to Jonty.

"Bite your tongue," said Jonty. It was too late in the autumn for that—he was covered by coats and scarves most of the time these days—but he still discreetly pushed his sleeve up to look at his wrist.

"You're starting to look common. Someone might think you're a _labourer_."

"You're a horrible human being," said Jonty mildly. "And you've got lipstick on your collar."

"I know," said Dorian, and smirked and left it exactly where it was. Actually, there was lipstick in two completely different shades, but Jonty didn't think Dorian's answer would have been any different if he'd told him that. He prided himself on flouncing about looking debauched.

Ross didn't win, but it was a narrow loss and Jonty cheered mightily for him all the same, and enthusiastically enough that Ross looked up and caught his eye and grinned at him.

"You shagged him," said Dorian wonderingly, because of course he could tell. Of course he could. "You actually did it."

Jonty refused to answer, even knowing that his refusal was enough answer in and of itself. "He's going to be a champion one day," he said instead. "Trinity is lucky to have him."

"He'll do," said Dorian, "if that sort of thing is important to you." Which rowing was to Trinity, without question, even if it hadn't been to Jonty personally before he started at the college. Before Dorian had petulantly gone and accidentally changed his life.

"You're going to ask him to join the Dandelions, of course."

"You're not my lord and master," said Dorian, "and it's not my business to do the inviting." But they both knew that was a technicality, and less than a week later Ross was inducted into the Dandelion Club. He had the name and breeding, so it had just been a matter of time anyway. But sometimes Jonty wondered if Ross might've said no if it hadn't been for him.

 

"I can't wait to see you in a tailcoat," said Jonty, as though that were the very reason he was staring so blatantly at Ross's arse from where he was sprawled on his bed.

"I'd rather be in my hoodie if it's all the same to you."

"You'll get used to it," Jonty promised him. "You should look your station."

"Sometimes I'm not even sure what that means," said Ross, but that was all right, Jonty would know for the both of them. "Am I staying tonight?"

"I don't know, are you?" said Jonty. They couldn't fuck all night—Ross had a tutorial in the morning and Jonty had a paper due before lunch—but that wasn't the sum total of how they had to spend their time together.

"I'd rather," admitted Ross. "Even if you insist on playing your music."

Ross might have protested it, but Jonty had listened at the door one time when Ross was showering in his rooms and he distinctly heard him singing _Nessun Dorma_ , if transposed into a lower key, so he couldn't have actually minded _that_ much.

"Is your neighbour still having very vocal and athletic sex?"

"She rarely even comes up for air," said Ross. "Another night I'd suggest we try to rival her, but—"

"We're not Dorian Gaudain," said Jonty. "We do have some standards of propriety."

"Sometimes," said Ross, and shot him a sly grin and even though they were both entirely clothed Jonty felt the heat of it.

"Time for a study break?" he suggested. "The night is young."

"Good-bye propriety," said Ross, but Jonty had only been saying it for lip service anyway.

 

It was chilly outside, the end of term fast approaching, but Jonty barely even noticed anymore. It wasn't so long that he couldn't trace back to when his recreational time had become so outdoor-oriented, but it was still a little baffling in its way, when he thought about it.

"Dr Cooper wants to start me on a new training regime, in the spring," said Ross as they walked. "He thinks I can be a real winner."

"Of course you can," said Jonty. "I never had any doubt."

"You don't even know anything about it," said Ross, and laughed and brushed his knuckles up against Jonty's, almost but not quite taking his hand. Jonty had never held someone's hand and walked along a river, or anywhere. It wasn't what he _did_.

"I know that you're good," said Jonty. "I'm not _blind_."

"I know I'm _good_ ," said Ross, "but now I can take it to the next level. I'm on the boat for Henley, Jonty."

"That's brilliant," he said, and started mentally reviewing his family's travel plans for the summer holidays to make sure he could be there. "In your first year, no less. Your—"

But of course Ross's family couldn't be proud, and Jonty wondered just who, other than him, Ross had to tell about his accomplishments. Certainly not the estranged brother. Maybe he had aunts, or grandparents, that Jonty had yet to hear about.

"Thank you," said Ross, and if Jonty wasn't entirely sure what he was being thanked for, he was glad he'd done whatever it took to earn the smile on Ross's face. He stretched his fingers out and caught Ross's and they kept on walking in the twilight. 

 

"Good God, not on the _lawn_ ," said Dorian as though they were a pair of naughty puppies, lifting his chin and looking anywhere but actually at them.

Ross just laughed at him and, actually, so did Jonty. Laughed and let Ross tumble over him on the dry grass, then offered him a hand and dusted him off after, letting their hands linger all over one another.

"I've got to go," said Ross apologetically. "I'll see you later?"

"I'll wait for you in your rooms after my lecture," said Jonty, "but try not to miss dinner this time. You'll want to keep your strength up."

"Why do I get the feeling you don't mean for rowing?"

Dorian just made a _noise_ which they both ignored, and they didn't kiss goodbye, not out here, but the look they gave one another was nearly as good, and Ross lingered for a long moment before he finally turned and started crossing the lawn away from them.

Jonty watched him go for a while before finally turning back to Dorian.

"You're in love with him," said Dorian, staring at him like he'd grown an extra limb or a third eye in the middle of his forehead.

"So what if I am?" said Jonty. "It's not your concern."

"You're in _love_ with him," Dorian said again, and Jonty couldn't brush it off so easily this time.

Jonty didn't use that word, or at least he never had. Not with anyone he'd shagged, not with his friends, not even with his family. It wasn't who they were. It shouldn't have been any wonder that he hadn't thought about it before, that he hadn't dwelled upon the possibility.

But now that it was out there, there was no other word that felt quite so right. He loved him. He was _in love_ with him. And that thought was so momentarily overwhelming that it pushed everything else out of his brain.

Dorian was still staring at him expectantly, but Jonty couldn't have cared less.

"If I am," he said, "you're not the one I intend to tell first."

Ross wasn't so far away yet that Jonty couldn't catch up, and without so much as a token backwards glance at Dorian whom he left standing indignantly in the middle of the lawn, he did just that.


End file.
